


Aradia Megido and the 12 Caste Heroes (alternatively, Aradia Disturbs Many Graves' Sanctity in the Name of History)

by willfulWhimsical



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Almost Everybody Will Appear, Also Alternia and Earth exist within sci-fi space travel distances, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Aradia Centric, Aradia Sure is Weird, Archaeology, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Question Troll Lifespans, Multi, Spoiler: The Condesce Will Be Defeated, The Author Does Know the Ending, The Author Doesn't Know the Route This's Taking, There's some funky magic going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willfulWhimsical/pseuds/willfulWhimsical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aradia Megido has more important things on her mind than Dave Strider's mysterious background, Tavros Nitram's thing with Vriska Serket, or what happened to Karkat Vantas.</p>
<p>She's got a mystery to solve and dead people to find.</p>
<p>(She isn't too busy to ponder how the Handmaid got cigarettes in the afterlife. That's the sort of thing that totally changes a girl's interpretation of the spirit world.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mystery Resolved, Not

 The leaves crunch under her feet as she approaches the crumbling wall. Her bag thumps out a rhythm against her hips, and her bracelets jangle around her wrists. Her hair fans out in the breeze. Her only pause is to untangle her long skirt from some thorns. When she reaches the wall, she sinks to her knees, sticks her hands into the soil, and speaks.

 "Speak to me, oh spirit of yore. Tell me of the times before."

 From the ground between her hands, smoke begins to rise in thin wisps. As she stumbles back, the smoke begins to thicken and condense. A small wisp swirls into a cylinder about five feet up. The minute her mind connects that it's a cigarette, the rest of the spirit begins to form.

 At the sight of the woman forming before her, the words to to finish the incantation stick in her throat. The specter's face is the spitting image of the legendary Handmaid. That's not what causes her throat to stick. This archaeological find of a lifetime wears the same sign as that which rests upon her chest; her horns twist in just the same way. The connection between her and the spirit turns tenuous at her inattention, and the smoke flickers. Startled, she scrambles back to her feet and finishes the incantation.

 "I, a child of time, bind thee to physicality for mere hours more. I, Aradia Megido, beg thy stories to pour once more."

 As Aradia waits for the spirit to acclimate to the physical plane once more, she mentally catalogues the physical appearance of the woman. Her dress is clearly late period Cherubian, the fashion of the time shortly before Her Imperial Condescension's, the 3rd of her line, reign ended. While the Handmaid was said to have lived during the 4th Condesce's rule, Aradia knows full well that lowbloods don't have the money to waste on clothes the way the highbloods do.

 The cigarette, however, is disconcerting. It was only under the reign of the most recent Condesce, the 12th, that contact, let alone trade, had been established with the planet and race that cigarettes came from. It brings up new questions on the afterlife that Aradia will have to look into.

 Her train of thought shatters when the spirit speaks, "Megido? Never thought I have spawn. You call me Damara, or Handmaid if fond of formality."

 The part of Aradia's mind that isn't reeling with the shock of confirming the spirit as both the Handmaid and her ancestor tries to place the odd dialect that Damara uses.

 "You have question, yes? Ask away. No charge for descendent."

 Aradia puts aside her debate between the remnants of East Beforan or early South Eastern Alternian and asks, "Did you really die in an attempt on the life of the Empress of your time?"

 Damara laughs bitterly, "My time? Oh, I tried killing bitch and died for it, but bitch did not belong to my time."

 At Aradia's expression of confusion Damara grins predatorily and continues, "You understand soon, I'm sure. Life and history like clockwork, repetition until the gear wears away."

 Aradia prepares to say something, anything, to ask what the hell she's talking about, but she stops before she can even open her mouth. It feels just like a blow to the chest when Damara rips her own connection to this plane. Aradia stumbles back, gasping for breath. Damara steps forward, flickering, and grabs her shoulder.

 Damara leans in close and hisses in her ear, "Be the decay. Break the clock. Learn the past. Set of 12, I am first and Empress is last."

 Damara flickers one last time, and Aradia catches something that sounds like hemospectrum before she's gone. The breeze picks up in the clearing as Aradia rubs uselessly at her bare arms. There's nothing special to mark this spot as archaeologically significant, just a crumbling wall and centuries of dead leaves. Aradia finds herself stepping forward to observe the hole left behind by her summoning. Instead of the shallow hole she's used to, this hole is shaped eerily like a gear and stretches down 6 feet. Something does mark this place, she decides. It marks it as hers.

 At the bottom, grinning the grin that only the long dead can, is the skull of her ancestor. Its retrieval takes longer than she'd like. When it finally is within reach, Aradia holds the skull up in the fading light and smiles back. After marking the location a success in her log book, she sets out for home with the skull tucked under her arm. Her bag and bracelets play accompaniment to the rustle of the leaves and crunch of twigs underfoot. The breeze follows her all the way home.


	2. I Wonder Who that Blueblood Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros, lots of Tavros.

 Aradia drops her bag beside the chair in Tavros Nitram's nutrition block. It's late, and it's still hours yet until the sun sets again. She'd been too excited to not to share the mystery with her old FLARPing buddy.

 "I'm, uhh, warning you, intruder. If you don't leave, I'll, uhh, run you through with this lance." Tavros is very clearly sitting in the doorway.

 Aradia doesn't tell him how nonthreatening he looks.

 "It's just me, Tavros. I just had to come tell you about what I found!"

 "You were looking for the grave of the, uhh, Handmaid, right? Did you find her?"

 "I sure did. And guess what! She's my ancestor!"

 "I thought ancestors were just, uhh, wriggler tales?"

 Aradia shakes her head and, grinning, says, "Nope! She wore my sign and had my horns and everything!"

 "As, uhh, neat as this, why'd you wake me up in the middle of the day?"

 "Tavros, this isn't just the archaeological find of a lifetime, there's a mystery too!" 

 She pauses dramatically for several moments. 

 Tavros starts to speak, but she interrupts, "I asked the Handmaid about how she supposedly tried to kill the 4th Condesce, and she admitted it! The mysterious part was how. She kept talking about how the Empress wasn't of her time. Then she mentioned how she and the Empress were a set of twelve."

 Tavros rolls over beside her, "Oh, no. I know that look. It's the same you had when you started, uhh, searching for the Handmaid. You're going to try to find these other, uhh, ten."

 Aradia nods excitedly, "Of course! I can't just let this go. Think of all the history I could learn!"

 "As long as that's your, uhh, only reason." 

 She looks at him curiously, "What else is there?"

 Tavros looks away and doesn't respond. Aradia doesn't push.

 "So do you want to help me?"

 "Uhh? Help?"

 "Well, yeah! See if she's a set of twelve, I'm thinking the rest all have to be one of the bloodcaste heroes. I mean the Empress could be seen as the fuschia hero, and the Handmaid is definitely a hero to the rust."

 "Doesn't the Handmaid, like, uhh, guide people to their death or something?"

 Aradia waves a hand dismissively, "Part of what makes her great. Everyone's equal in death."

 "Doesn't that leave you, uhh, one short?" Tavros asks with a yawn.

 Aradia bites her lip, "We'll worry about that when we come to it "

 "So, uhh, my caste would be next?" 

 "Yes! Now, what can you tell me about the Summoner?"

* * *

 

 

 "So, the Summoner died in a revolt during the reign of the 9th Condesce? That was fairly recent; you would think I would have heard."

 Tavros shakes his head, "I didn't know the story of the Handmaid until you told me a few, uhh, perigees back. I think we all just, uhh, assume that everyone knows the stories."

 Aradia hums thoughtfully and considers it. To her it doesn't quite sound right, highbloods generally just assume the lowbloods don't know things and tell them anyway. Even if it's the same story you heard from the last one, they'll tell it again. She saves her doubts for a later date.

 "We'll need to find a grave for him."

 "I can, uhh, ask around and see if anybody has any idea of whether he was executed or, uhh, felled in battle."

 "I'm surprised that's not the most told part."

 "Well, uhh, most say executed, but some say the Marquise faked her death to save him."

 "That's the cerulean he was matesprits with, right?"

 "Yeah, she's, uhh, Vriska's ancestor and the cerulean, uhh, hero?"

 "Vriska?"

 "Vriska Serket, the girl you, uhh, called a bitch for paralyzing me. We get along now and she's trying to, uhh, bully a blueblood into building me some, uhh, robotic legs."

 Aradia is doubtful about the intentions of that bitch, but she'll wait. Tavros doesn't look too terribly terrified at the thought of the bitch.

 "At least we'll have a good source for when we get to cerulean."

 There's still a few hours in the day, but it's not much longer after that to moon rise.

 "I'll let you get some rest so you can tend to your animals."

  
 Aradia leaves shortly after a few more exchanges of small talk and heads for her own hive. She's got a new prized possession to display in a spot of honor. Hmm, would it look better in her respite block or in her recreation block?


	3. Tavros Isn't the Only One with A "Thing," Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia's office is the baby of the Ghostbusters' HQ and a stereotypical noir, Private Eye office complete with frosted door. It's also the size of a walk-in closet and is in disrepair. Make of it what you will.

 Progress is slow. Aradia’s usual contacts are either too high on the spectrum to know much or too weary after being dogged for sweeps about the Handmaid. Her sweeps spent as a recluse hunting down both the Handmaid and relics for hire, while building her reputation, cut her social circle down quite a bit. Tavros is the only one she still keeps in contact with from her youth, and even with him she hasn’t done the best job. It’s something she needs to change.

 Aradia does have other things to look into and relics to find. There are always rich highbloods who want relics of their ancestors but are useless when you take them out of the hivestems. Aradia finds it funny when they come to her looking for their ancestor’s favorite skinning knife but look like they can’t even catch a meowbeast. They pay well, however, and the pieces they want aren’t generally as important in the grand scheme of things as they would like to think.

 Alternia’s best alien trading partner, the humans, on the hand, want similar things but for different reasons. Some want it because they see trolls as inferior; others want relics due to their desire to see the universe or their admiration for trolls or a hundred other reasons. Aradia likes working with humans. Her favorite human client is Dave Strider.

 Strider comes to her for bones and preserved dead things. It’s refreshing to meet someone who shares a similar interest, although she’s yet to make it past his irritating exterior for long enough to offer to show off some of her prized pieces. Or try to get him to show her some rarer Earth species. Mammals are _fascinating_.

 Tonight’s one of the night’s she spends in her cheap, rented office waiting to see if anyone shows. It’s also been a few weeks since she’s seen Strider, so she has a high hopes for seeing him. She’s bound and determined to see some strange and interesting pieces. Maybe he even has human remains! She spins around in her cheap rolling chair. Boredom and excitement are never the best combination for her. As if on cue, one of her contacts comes through the door. Through is meant in a very literal sense.

 The washed out spirit of some long forgotten midblood floats awkwardly before her. She gestures him to the incense burning in the corner. When she had been younger, she’d discovered that burning some of the odd plants growing near her home solidified the spirits a bit. It was the next best thing to helping them move on when it came to paying them with for their services. She’d never found the name of the plants.

“Miss Megido, I found something-”

 The door opens with a loud creak and a shudder. The spirit jumps backwards through the wall out of fright, and Aradia snorts at his cowardice. When Aradia looks at her visitor, she grins.

 They are decidedly not a troll. They are also decidedly not waiting on her to invite them in.

 “Hey Megido, what’s up?”

 “Strider, always a pleasure. I found the remains I’ve been searching for over the past sweeps.” Dead things are always quick to capture his attention.

 “Oh and what’s that? Come on now don’t leave me hanging like one of those corpses you trolls are fond of. Seriously, every time I go to visit this one troll chick there is another goddamn corpse hanging from her tree. If trolls had Christmas trees, corpses would be her ornaments. She wouldn’t get any presents under her tree either. Santa would take one look at her house and put her on the top of the naughty list, but on Alternia apparently that’s just how the justice system rolls.”

 His rambling amuses her, and the corpse tree is ringing a bell that she can’t place. Someone she knew when she was six perhaps?

 “Strider, as much as I like your rambling you asked me a question,” she says to cut him off. It works. He’s much too cool to be embarrassed by his rambling, however. Sometimes, she does wish it were otherwise.

 “The Handmaid is one of several legendary trolls. She’s famous for attempting assassinate the 4th Condesce. It turns out she’s my ancestor too.”

 If Aradia was expecting a reaction she doesn’t get one.

 “So you’ve got some cool badass as your ancestor? She try to kill the Empress with the cutlery or the mop handle?”

 “Funny. She was fond of kneedlekind actually.”

 Strider flinches slightly, and Aradia is fairly certain she’s stumbled upon some piece to his identity. For all that he’s stopped by several times over the last sweep, she still hasn’t learned why he’s on Alternia or even who his troll friend is.

 “I also picked up her skull.”

 “That’s kind of fucking morbid even for you.”

 “It’s really cool though.”

 “So how many weirdass dead Earth creatures do I have to bring to see it?”

 “Three should suffice! Or just one if you have anything human!”

 Aradia interprets the way he’s tilted his head her direction as a Look. Whatever admonition he planned on saying, he apparently changes his mind.

 “So does bringing you a case require extra weirdly preserved creatures or does that count as a plus?”

 Aradia grins, “Definitely a plus.”

 “Cool. She’s already here so I’ll let you two do the weird dance of the mating sharks masquerading as haggling that trolls do.”

 Strider leaves with the grace of a hoofbeast and the speed of a chucklebeast. The next to come through Aradia’s door takes the breath out of her.

 Terezi Pyrope was all angles when they were six, and she only seems to have gotten sharper since then. Her hair is still flipped out at the ends, but now she wears the official dress of a legisclater. She strikes an imposing figure silhouetted in the doorway, and Aradia can’t help but note the way it reminds her of the old detective films Terezi would stream when it was her turn for movie night. Terezi is like a wave of nostalgia personified. She moves like a shark and sits in the same chair Strider just vacated.

 Aradia opens her mouth first, “Terezi Pyrope! I never thought I’d see you again in this life.”

 Terezi smirks, “Yes, I bet you thought the next time you’d see me, you’d be scavenging my bones.


	4. Maybe it's Maybelline, Maybe She's Born with Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terezi thinks she got the better end of a deal, and Tavros probably has stars in his eyes. Aradia probably contemplates going back in the middle of the night to steal some bones, but it's better if we don't think about it.

“Oh, but don’t you remember I deal in the long dead?”

“I did, but I thought you might make an exception for a friend,” Terezi smiles like the blade of a knife. “Speaking of doing things for friends, I have caegars to burn.”

“This lovely office space doesn’t come cheap, you know,” Aradia lies through her fangs. It’s all she can afford and even then she had to tie some of the shoestrings of her shoestring budget together.

“Oh, but what if I said I could pay you for even better?” And that sends up mauve flags. Offering up more money freely reeks of risk, and from Terezi Pyrope who makes a living off catching some of the most dangerous criminals? Who reportedly turned down a promotion just so she could keep doing those rookie jobs?

“What’s the case? It already sounds exciting!” Aradia grins, and if her expression has a hint of recklessness to it, well, it’s kin to Terezi’s grin.

“Perhaps you’ve heard of Neophyte Redglare?”

Aradia, for the life of her, can only remember the name as Terezi’s FLARPing persona.

“Was she your ancestor? I think I recall a little from our FLARPing days, but I just wrapped up a big case. Refresh me.”

“Neophyte Redglare was, of course, a Neophyte Legislacerator like I am. In fact, she was the greatest of all time! There’s plenty of evidence to back that, and any teal-blooded troll you meet will agree.” Terezi starts into the story with all the mastery of legislacerator’s recital of the facts.

Aradia tunes, mostly, out. She scribbles some places down as she listens, but inside she’s gleeful. A caste hero has fallen into her lap, but she can’t let Terezi know just how hooked she is already.

“...The most famed of her cases was during the reign of the 8th Condesce. The Marquise Mindfang was the captain of a shipful of gamblignants and the terror of the seas. Redglare captured Mindfang, but at trial was brought low by a riot. Mindfang culled His Honorable Tyranny, the Twenty-Third Holder of Office, and escaped.”

“While I’m sure the information will be useful, what exactly of hers do you want?”

“She wore a necklace that’s depicted in one of the few remaining depictions of her. I want it, obviously. I’ll even share my research on what it means, if you can retrieve it.”

Aradia leans forward over her notes, forearms resting on the edge of her desk.

“Terezi, we’re old friends. As much as I’m enjoying you continuing to sweeten the nutrition valley, I’d be happier if you just told me what’s going to be so dangerous.”

Terezi shifts. She fiddles. Never in all the time Aradia has known her, which admittedly contains large gaps, has Terezi acted so visibly nervous.

“The necklace was the symbol of a rebellion during the period of Suffering. After the 1st Condesce was betrayed, the 2nd imposed martial law. The Condesce was deposed by her descendant shortly after the rebellion. The 3rd Condesce enacted sweeping reforms in courtblocks and installed Her Honorable Tryanny, the First Holder of Office.

“For that reason there is some uncertainty around Redglare’s death. Usually there are more senior legislacerators providing basic security, and there were none at the trial. The necklace may have been buried with her… or it may have been confiscated.”

Aradia rocks back in her chair. She’s dealt with a confiscated relic here or there. A yellow-blood had come in looking for a journal that had been labelled subversive during the reign of the 10th Condesce. Her ancestor had been culled in the matter, but Aradia had been able to convince for its release on the grounds of potential technological advancement. The troll had gone on to be rich off it and sent her a few caegars every so often for her help.

This necklace? Potentially doable. She could argue that it was actually in tribute to the rebellion’s effect on law. Or maybe she was just borrowing trouble. Burying a necklace would take less effort than secreting it away and letting trolls wonder.

Aradia levels a stare at Terezi, “Promise me you’ll still pay if it’s in possession of the archaeoquisitiors. It’ll be a lot of work to pry it from their claws, and after all that, I might still not get it.”

Terezi grins like she’s gotten the better end, and Handmaid take her if that isn’t worrisome. “You have a deal, Aradia.”

Terezi stands and sniffs, “Your walls smell like dirty pavement. Reminds me of someone.”

As she leaves, Aradia calls after her, “Oh! Don’t forget to stay in touch! I want to host your corpse party if you die!”

“Hehehe! Of course, I have missed your brand of morbidity in my life!”

Aradia spins in her chair. Plans coming together. She’d planned on going in order, but what with the mystery number… She freezes with her mouth ajar. Tavros, Terezi, Vriska, and herself made four, a whole third of the heroes she needed to find. There’d been twelve of them at six sweeps. They’d even been friends with the )(eiress! Almost half accounted for!

Terezi might have kept in touch with some better than she had. She’d certainly remembered Aradia well enough while Aradia would have to admit she hadn’t thought of her in sweeps.

“Miss Megido? I-is it...safe?” The midblood ghost has returned. Aradia smiles encouragingly.

“Of course! Just you and me.”

“You wanted to know about the Summoner? Who is the bronze-blooded hero?”

Aradia’s smile looks fixed. She remembers this one now. Elliem called himself the Quest1er in life, and in death, he’s one of Aradia’s best informants with a thirst for knowledge that has kept his spirit bound to Alternia. He’s also really annoying and sounds like he’s on the human game show Jeopardy. Aradia is pretty sure they cull contestants who don’t answer in questions. Or something. Strider wasn’t very clear on the matter and on a roll in his rambling.

“Yes.”

“His burial location? Where is the Field of Broken Lances, north of the military hives of cavalreapers? Where is northeast of his descendant’s hive?”

“Ok.” Please let that be all.

“How is guarded by the creatures of the forest, including musclebeasts? May I take my leave now?”

“Please, feel free.”

She’d talk with Tavros the next night. Now, she needed to scurry back to her hive before the sun rose.

* * *

 

“So we just head, uhh, northeast of my hive?”

“Basically!” Aradia grins and follows up with her trademark double pistols and a wink. “Unless you already know where the old cavalreapers hivebase is?”

“Well, no. But I’ve communed with some animals in the, uhh, general area? They’ve mentioned a location that draws them similar, uhh, to my powers.”

“Lead the way!”

Tavros rolls out the hive and towards his stables. A moment passes and a hoofbeast exits. It takes off towards the northeast, and they follow. It takes a long, winding, roundabout path, but they reach a stump in the middle of a field before the moons get much further than the midpoint of the sky.

“Do you think it will take as long to get back?”

Aradia motions him to silence and observes the spot. Tavros, she knows, is a child of breath. His powers led him more to communications, vibrations of air that animals sense. At least, she thinks that’s how his animal communing works. Otherwise he’s never displayed any breath related powers which is kind of sad. He probably could have flown with a bit of practice.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a precious, glass bottle with care. One crack and its powers are gone with little use to her.

Tavros pipes up behind her, “Isn’t that a bottle of zephyr? Aren’t those, uhh, really expensive?”

“Yes and yes. But don’t worry, I bet you’ve led us to the right spot!” She tries to be encouraging because she’s not really certain how she’s going to find the right connection otherwise. She could compel minor spirits all day long, but someone with as strong a connection with the aspects as the Handmaid or the Summoner or any other child of an aspect would have to come willingly.

She also doesn’t tell Tavros how she acquired the bottle. A human had made the bottle right in front of her in exchange for summoning some spirits for him to talk to. It was amazing his control over the aspect, and the first instance she’d seen of humans with child level connections.

She sinks to her knees in front of the stump and shoves a hand into the soil. With the other, she lays the jar on its side and opens it.

"Speak to me, oh spirit of yore. Tell me of the times before."

From the ground between her hand and the jar, smoke begins to rise in thin wisps. She rises backwards as Tavros stutters something out in the background. The smoke rises and sketches out wings. Her mind makes the connection, and the spirit takes his form. His horns are even wider than Tavros’s, and his sign exactly the same.

Aradia grins. For all it took almost a season, it has been one of her easiest hunts.

"I, a child of time, bind thee to physicality for mere hours more. I, Aradia Megido, beg thy stories to pour once more."

As he acclimates to the physical plane, she mentally catalogues his appearance. He’s rocking what can only be described as a mixture of some throwback to late Cherubian and early period Rust Renaissance, a period when the clothes makers of the day were mostly in her and Tavros’s caste. It makes sense with his rebellion occurring in the reign of the 9th Condesce. Retro styles were also pretty big in the period. A large find of media from the 4th Condesce’s reign kicked off that trend.

“Hey doll! Damara was telling me all about her pretty little descendent with the dope ghost powers... Told me to get my act together for company... I’m Rufioh Nitram, the Summoner.”

Tavros rolls up next to her, and she can pinpoint the exact second he manages to pull together his confidence. “Uhh, hello! I’m Tavros, your descendent.”

“Yo, that’s chill… great to meet you! Proud of you for making it this far… Can I get a fist bump, yeah?”

They enact the most magical of fistbumps, beasts pour out of the forest and the wind howls. Okay, it’s a light breeze and a few nutbeasts, but she hadn’t thought they’d manage to connect. Maybe it’s a side effect of the ancestor-descendent connection? Aradia shakes her thoughts and decides to favor the questioning she came for.

“You led a revolt against the Empress. I’d like to hear about that, if you’ll share!”

Her ancestor had brought up their new mystery without prompting, and the Summoner had already mentioned. It gives the great bonus of confirming mixed caste interaction in the afterlife!

“Aranea and I, you might know her as the Marquise, led the Lost Boys against the Empress… Lost Boys was just what they called my squad at first… Name wound up sticking to everyone… She tried to save me, but her dope luck finally ran out… She fell at sea the day I fell in battle…”

While he gets a dreamy a look and starts muttering about “dope romances” and “chill dolls” or whatever, she shared a look with Tavros. The Summoner falling in battle paints a bit of a different picture than the old tale of the Empress executing him.

“Yo, ever notice how the Empress never seems to get any younger? Always got the same horns too, only ever longer… Some pretty short reigns to be getting descendents on the throne…”

The wind picks up suddenly.

“I’m the second in Damara’s set… I recommend going a little out of order… And Tavros? I believe in you!”

Aradia feels, for a moment, her ancestor’s presence. It doesn’t feel quite as painful when she cuts the connection this time, but she stumbles back all the same. Tavros rolls forward.

“It looks like the wind…”

Six feet down a hole that looks like the ancient symbol for breath, the skull of the Summoner looks up.

“Uhh, Aradia? I know you like skulls, but…” He trails off, and Aradia understands. She usually doesn’t tell clients when she pilfers their ancestor’s bones anyway. They get weird about it.

She makes sure to mark the location in her log book, just in case. On the walk back, the breeze doesn’t follow her, but her mind is quicker and clearer. The noises of Tavros’s chair harmonize to the jingle of her bracelets, and she grins the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses. So here's proof I'm alive and this is still alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't question this. There's world building that will double as mystery solving.  
> This is in no way related to Major Arcana, but I'll get back to work on that, eventually.


End file.
